A Place to Hide
by sweetMagdalene
Summary: *Tumblr Captain Swan Secret Santa Gift for the wonderful auroraswan!* Lieutenant Duckling/ Captain Swan AU (pre-Neal) - Emma is transported to a magical colonial land wherein she meets mild mannered officer, Killian Jones. Looking to escape her juvenile life on the run in downtown Portland, Emma loses herself in the first true adventure she's ever had.
1. An Enchanted Escape

A Place to Hide – Chapter One

Summary: Lieutenant Duckling/ Captain Swan AU (pre-Neal) - Emma is transported to a magical colonial land wherein she meets mild mannered officer, Killian Jones. Looking to escape her juvenile life on the run in downtown Portland, Emma loses herself in the first true adventure she's ever had.

Word Count: 3, 089

Rating: T (for now, muahahaha)

A/N: This is dedicated to all those who sent me lovely messages of encouragement last night (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE)! You're amazing and I love you. I'm sort of using this series as a way to help me get over my anxiety around writing. The captain swan fandom is so supportive, so I know it will go well. Happy reading, and don't forget to let me know what you think! :)

Emma's heart pounded heavily with each quick pump of her legs, black boots falling loudly with each step. She dipped and darted around every street corner, attempting to lose the team of security guards hot on her tail. The wet sidewalks of downtown Portland did little to aid her escape, puddles splashing underneath her feet, kicking water up her black stockings. At least she had the cover of a cloudy night and the thick shroud of her hood to shield her identity from her pursuers.

This was the third time that week she'd been chased by the city's authorities, all of which had been very close calls. Part of it gave her a thrill – brought an excitement to her life that she couldn't get anywhere else – but it was only the most desperate of measures. Seventeen and on her own, Emma needed food to eat, clothes to wear and a place to live. The few shifts she was able to get at the truck stop diner outside of town hardly gave her enough for rent, let alone food in her belly. And the guilt she felt in her stomach told her she was only days away from being fired. Being mouthy with the more grabby customers and rude with the notoriously bad tippers hardly gave her warrant for employee of the month.

Lately the shelters were driving her insane. She had no idea where she belonged, jumping from place to place her whole life, but she _knew_ it couldn't be with the likes of the criminals, drug addicts and the odd disparaged youths that frequented those places.

She could do it. And she'd do it on her own.

As she'd _always_ done it.

But as she rounded the block's final corner Emma definitely knew something had to change. Her aching legs and heaving breaths were a clear sign that she couldn't keep this up for much longer. Right then she'd decided, tomorrow it was time to find a getaway car. She'd keep it non-descript, something easy and reliable. Emma had been spending the last few nights staking out the area and had a couple options in mind.

With a car she could go anywhere, with limitless possibilities. Emma liked the sound of that.

Finally, Emma jogged as quietly as she could to the end of a long alleyway to catch her breath. Her fingers clung tightly to the bag she held at her chest, the contents of which were poking her roughly through the purse. But she didn't care, Emma just grasped it tighter, hoping to wait out her followers in the dark.

After a few minutes of standing, her body plastered to the rough bricks behind her Emma sank down to the ground, her body hidden behind a tall trash bin. Letting out a deep breath, the smile that she held on her face during her escape fell fast. Opening her bag, Emma looked at the contents of her mini raid and sighed. This was it? For some reason, Emma thought she'd grabbed more, but instead was left with crackers, some fancy cheese she couldn't even pronounce the name of, a twelve pack of spearmint gum, an Apollo chocolate bar and some instant coffee. Emma shook her head. She didn't even have a kettle. Grocery stores often brought her mind back to a time when she had a family – or at least a pretend one – and all the conveniences that went along with having a home.

What was worse was that she wasn't even really craving coffee. Emma craved a cup that was hastily drank in the diner's back kitchen before rushing back to serve customers, one that wasn't sipped amongst strangers in the early hours the morning, her surroundings makeshift and sterile. She wanted a kitchen table at sunrise, someone to wake up with, a respectable job to go to – a home that smelled of coffee, and cinnamon, and hope in the morning.

Shaking her head and focusing on her stupid mistake, Emma unwrapped her candy bar and took a bite. The chocolate did nothing to numb the loneliness of the moment, as she had this strong and indescribable desire to be found, even though she was constantly hiding. She wanted someone to care enough to look – not just look, but search – Emma desperately wanted to matter _that much_.

But she knew she never would. She never had.

Even the cops gave up on her quickly, like they knew she was a just a lost girl, a lost cause.

Tears started to leak out the sides of her eyelids, and Emma stubbornly tried to beat them back, nibbling on the side of the chocolate bar in an attempt to dull the ache in her head and in her chest. Suddenly, large raindrops began falling on the top of her hooded figure, tinkling noises caused by the alley's metal railings and dumpsters surrounding her. The logical part of her brain told her to get up and find her way quickly back to the nearest shelter or community centre, but instead she just pushed off the heavy hood and let the rain soak through her skin and tied back blonde hair. She didn't get up, didn't move, just let the fresh water wash over her, her face tilted towards the sky.

Sitting soaking wet in that alley, Emma felt like she could escape. The thick droplets added an almost comforting weight to her clothes, and she felt just heavy enough that the ground might open its jaws and swallow her up. The thought was a welcome one.

Her foiled grocery excursion had gotten her enough for the night, but Emma knew she'd be back to stealing leftovers tomorrow morning during her 6am shift. She didn't want this life for herself, and she thought that her only way to avoid it must be to stay in this safe little puddle, water seeping out of her dress and onto the dirty cement around her. Perhaps if she stayed in one place long enough, like they taught children on tv sometimes, whoever was out there would finally find her – they'd chastise her for making it so difficult, but not really mind – Emma was all that would matter.

Her very own happy ending.

The sides of her lips tipped up at the fantasy and she decided to live in it a few moments longer.

The soothing thoughts were stolen from her at the sound of screeching tires on the slick pavement of the adjacent intersection. Emma heard several gasps and a quiet rumbling of voices from the crowd she could see gathering.

Without thought, she stood up and slung her bag across her body. Securing it tightly on her right hip, she cautiously exited her temporary hiding place, stepping out into the street. The scene before her was completely absurd.

People had gathered in the middle of the intersection, hesitantly surrounding a manhole cover which appeared to have blown off. What was weird however, was the bright green glowing that emanated from the ground, swirling dangerously and looking very out of this world. Emma couldn't believe her eyes as the growing winds threw up her ponytail to fly around her face. It was like a helicopter was touching down in the middle of the crowded street, but coming instead from beneath them, slowly rising up. Either there was some serious nuclear waste hanging out in the radio-active sewers of downtown Portland, or her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw an old school red convertible peel away from the scene, the wet streets spraying up around the spinning wheels. It looked like two men sat in the car's front seats, but Emma couldn't be sure. She tried to read the license plate through the now heavy downpour, but they'd gotten away too quickly. They all stood there entranced by the scene, and Emma took several tentative steps toward the treacherous vortex.

All of a sudden she had the strangest, most inexplicable urge to jump. It was crazy but Emma felt this desperate tug from every cell of her body, and her arms shook from the sensation. She clutched the strap of her bag tighter to try to release the confusing desire. Her green eyes stayed wide, mesmerized by the constant spinning pool, of – of nothing. Nothing from this world at least. Emma wanted to reach down and grab a handful of the green nothingness, to try and hold a piece of the enchanted emptiness.

Emma's ears perked up at the sound of shrill whistles being blown in the distance, her eyes darting to the approaching sounds and then back to her hiding place, the odd moment interrupted. The police were coming to clear the scene. They'd notice her instantly. Emma casually removed herself from the throngs of onlookers and shuffled back into the shadow of the alleyway, staying on her tiptoes in order to see over the crowd.

One block down another manhole cover was shot out of the ground, cars coming to a halt in each direction, as the green light overtook the next block.

Everything around her seemed to hold the bright green glow coming from the growing whirlpools, faces and shop windows reflecting the magical hue. Most of them held an awe-like fear that kept them back from the swirling colours, and parents kept their children behind them and away from the unknown danger. Despite the utter confusion and the sharp twinge she felt in her heart from watching the protective mothers and fathers, Emma felt a heavy relief. This could be the distraction she needed to get out of there.

But to go where? She didn't know, but made her exit anyway. Reporters would be there within minutes with their camera crews and the last thing Emma needed was to be caught on tape and broadcast across the city.

Checking that her pathway was clear of cops, she headed south down the street and threw her hood back up over her head, the waterlogged raindrops running down her neck, making her itch with discomfort. Walking just fast enough that she'd get out of there quickly, Emma tried to keep a casual pace. Up ahead, more commotion erupted as another green vortex opened up, cars swerving to avoid a collision. An air of panic began to settle over the previously awestruck pedestrians as people ran to avoid the chaos in the streets. Emma decided to run.

But, rounding a corner east away from the distress, Emma ran straight into a large body heading in the opposite direction. Her body froze when big white letters invaded her eye line – security. Keeping her face cast towards the ground Emma muttered a quick apology.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled in her sweetest, quietest voice, shuffling to his left to pass him without notice. Emma made it a few steps before being wrenched backwards by the strap of her purse.

"YOU!" The heavy set security guard yelled, yanking her towards him. Emma struggled against his tight grip. "You are heading straight downtown miss," he started dragging her back in the direction she came, towards the police cars that surrounded the unnatural scene. "We've been looking to get you for weeks," he gloated, his tight fist on her jacket pulling her kicking feet out from under her. Emma tried to get a good punch in, but the vest covering his already thick belly made it hard for her to land a good blow.

Emma's fingers then tried to gain purchase on his face, but the guard was able to shake her off.

"Now miss, you just co-operate now and I'll be looking to get a promotion outta you. We'll hand you over to one of these nice gentlemen and I'll be sittin' pretty for the rest of the month. No one's gonna fucking believe it."

The stupid grin on his face made Emma want to scream - just another person wanting to hand her over. Another person looking to make some money off of her, like every foster family she ever had. She couldn't take it anymore.

With a quick jab Emma was able to grab a piece of his dark, thinning hair and tug on it so hard that he finally released his grip. She kept a hold of him as she whirled around to his front, bringing one quick knee up and making him fall to his knees. She took off running but the guard's cries of agony alerted everyone around her.

"Get back here! Somebody stop the little thief!" he wheezed out before she got too far.

The streets were now empty of bystanders, however swarming with police officers, and all eyes were trained on her thwarted escape. Emma was in a pickle, darting to each visible exit before they were blocked by the surrounding cops and she had to skid to a sudden stop on the slick pavement, the rain still coming down fast. Her heart beat wildly. So strong she could feel it in her fingers, hear it in her ears.

She took a quick glance around. She was completely surrounded. The security guard was slowly getting up and moving towards her, reporting something into his walkie-talkie.

This was it. The day they proved to her that she couldn't do it. She wasn't meant to succeed, to _matter_.

Suddenly, the strange feeling took over her again, her heart tugging towards the abandoned green light. Its vibrancy was fading now, the swirling hues slowing down and the winds calming. Without thought, Emma glanced back her darkened alleyway, her temporary hiding place, and knew that's what she wanted. Emma wanted an escape from this world – this cold hearted world – where she could be free to hide away. A place where she could let the ground swallow her up, and keep her safe.

With one more glance around at the approaching officers Emma stole herself to the impossible. She took off towards the upended manhole. Shouts of warning bounced off of the concrete of the city's streets but didn't register in Emma's thoughts. The closer she got to its light, the harder her blood pumped, the louder her heart sang.

She didn't stop, not once. She just kept pumping her feet, as she had done her whole life, until she felt the ground give out beneath her, the world going dark as clenched her eyes shut. Emma didn't even stop as she felt her feet jolted back to solid ground, her steps wobbly as her eyes opened to clear blue skies and the sound of seagulls calling overhead. She shielded her vision from the brightness, but just kept running, unable to stop her momentum.

Casting a quick glance behind her, Emma's stared in awe. Ancient ships crowded the skyline with their tall masts and white sails as they sat along the seaside, docks lining the stone walled beaches. Beaches?

Emma turned back around in confusion, her pace slowing, but it was just as a group of men were exiting a small building and she crashed right into them, knocking several over. A pile of limbs spread on the bumpy roadside.

One in particular caught her under round the back of her crown and around her waist, stopping what could have been a serious head injury. Or maybe it was what she needed in order to snap her out of whatever twisted dream this was turning out to be. The man's heroics did however leave him in a compromising position on top of her, their bodies touching in a quite intimate way with his arms surrounding her frame, but all Emma could do it stare at him. His face was right above hers, foreheads almost touching. His blue eyes were piercing and inquisitive, and his breaths came out in short huffs, fanning over her cheeks in the most pleasant way, his lips parted. Emma lost her breath altogether.

The sunlight peaked through between two ships on the horizon and lit his face so perfectly, his brown hair glowing red with its warm light. He smiled down at her face, eyes wrinkling at the corners.

"Well you're quite real, aren't you?" his sweet and unassuming voice stunned her silent.

Emma was just about to smile back at him and say thank you, when she glance at the men lingering around this perfect moment. They were in uniform – some sort of military getup – and Emma looked back her fallen savior. He wore the same insignia, metals and badges covering his chest. Panic set into her veins.

She had to get out of there. As soon as they knew who she was, what she'd done, they'd hand her over instantly. Stealing her face back to one of fierce determination, the man looked down on her in the cutest confusion. Emma shifted underneath the solider before throwing up her knee once again with a quick blow to his groin, taking him by surprise.

With a manly cry he doubled over in pain, just enough that Emma could wiggle out from under his embrace. She took off running once more, but not before she heard his shouts coming from behind her.

"Wait!" he said, before she got too far away. "Come back!"

Emma turned around too look at him once more and gave him a cheeky smile, thrilled with yet another escape, and she watched him struggle to stand. And just before she disappeared from his sight round the farthest corner, his voice echoed through Emma's entire body. Four little words caused her heart to race, her veins to ignite.

"I will find you!" he shouted with a cheerful, accented laugh.

All the breath left her lungs, but her legs kept running, searching, for a new place to hide.


	2. Moment of Impact

A Place to Hide - Chapter Two: Moment of Impact

Word Count: 2,795

Rating: T

Killian Jones had been thinking a lot lately about the sky, and wished he could feel it on his skin the way his ship's white sails seemed to. It filled them up and completed what they were, helped them be more than the flimsy fabric that made them up.

Forced action, forced change – made them real.

And Lieutenant Killian Jones wanted nothing more than to feel real.

He was jolted from his dazed staring contest with the steady, faraway waves by a strong hand on his shoulder. It was his brother, Liam. Always a steady presence beside him, Killian admired him, even though they didn't always see eye to eye. Liam had captained their vessel to back safety just that morning, home from a dangerous expedition on the high seas, and the crew suggested an early visit to the local tavern to celebrate the fine achievements of their voyage.

Killian had arrived late to the festivities, having been given the unfortunate duty of transporting the foreign prisoners who they'd captured during their journey, to the royal dungeons. And despite his utter exhaustion after they'd docked, Killian took on the responsibility. One thing that came along with the respected title of Naval Lieutenant was following his captain's orders, even if the captain happened to be his older brother.

Killian had had an entire life of following orders, so he was used to it, even if they were _bloody_ pirates.

Still, even after he'd arrived, Killian hung back from the crowd. Proud of his brother's success but preferring a table by the open window, Killian sat in a thoughtful silence until beckoned by Liam.

"Come brother," he summoned, looking down on him in a teasing jest. "Let's drink that gloomy look off your face. You've earned it, Lieutenant."

Killian forced a half-hearted smile to his lips and raised his pint in cheers, "All in good time, brother."

Liam's expression was full of doubt, and Killian regretted the pity he saw in it too.

"I know you prefer life on the open sea, Killian, but you must remember that this land is our home," Liam said, his voice unwavering and earnest. Killian was surprised by his brother's insight, and he stared up at him in contemplation. But then Liam continued, his eyes falling on the gaggle of young girls that sat giggling in the shadowy corner, "We must _take advantage_ of all the mainland has to offer." He raised his ale at the same time as his suggestive eyebrows, blue irises twinkling as he backed away from his brother.

"I'll catch up with you," Killian tried best to match Liam's playful tone, while slightly embarrassed by the way he seemed to command the now swooning group of females. Liam always had that sort of ease about him. Loved being in control – over him, over their crew, over women – and Killian never resented him for it. Without Liam, the two brothers would hardly be members of the Royal Navy, for Liam built them both up from nothing. Saving them from their father's abandonment, and sacrificing a normal life for his brother, Liam was Killian's hero.

But every now and then, he wondered if this life, if he, was a product of himself or what Liam had chosen for them both. He didn't know if he was real. Killian only knew that when he was out on the water, in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight, his future felt full of possibility.

He felt limitless. He felt the magical pull of the sky on the sails. Out there, he didn't care about being real, because out there he was_ impossible. _

But on dry land he felt a tug back to the water, like his feet weren't anchored along with the ship, his veins feeling the ebb and flow of the constant tides. He wished he could hide out on ocean, float and fall on its waves, and live forever.

Killian shook the thoughts out of his mind and took a long gulp of his pint. He was being wistful again, disconnecting from the world. He stared out the window, watching the people outside. People walking, working, living. It was a beautiful day, and it should be enjoyed.

Gathering his wits, Killian turned from the window and rose from his solitary table, making a move to join his fellow shipmates at the bar. After just two steps across the squeaky wooden floor, Killian's eye was drawn backwards to a bright green flash that came from outside. It illuminated the entire tavern for a quick moment, lost to those too lost in their drinks to notice. Killian and a few other men started toward the door at the sound of distance gasps from the cobblestoned street.

The bell jingled sharply above the door as they exited fast, Killian's head scanning the crowd, and his ears picked up the sound of running footsteps from his left. He turned a second before the moment of impact.

His body was met with a rough blow, small hands reaching out to grab purchase on his shoulders. Killian's immediately cradled her, one 'round her back and the other at the back of her head, knowing they were going down. All he saw was a blur of blonde hair before the momentum brought them both tumbling to the ground. A small feminine shriek sounded before he was on top of her. Her.

Killian couldn't take his eyes off of her face. His hip ached, having absorbed most of their fall, but it didn't matter. Blonde hair fanned out underneath the hand that was still cradling her head, soft on his rough fingers as they unconsciously stroked her. Wet curls stuck to the side of her pale skin, its intoxicating scent filling his senses. Lips parted, it looked as if she'd lost her breath with the fall, her eyes wide as she looked up at him.

She shifted against him and he took note of their compromising position as well as their growing audience. She felt so perfect, so right, so tight against his body. It had been only a few seconds of contact, but it was as if his heart stopped ebbing - fell right into place and swelled at the feeling. Her beauty was of an odd, intriguing nature and Killian had never seen anything like her. This brought the most genuine smile to Killian's face, and his breath got quicker, his heartbeat stronger.

"Well you're quite _real_, aren't you?" The first words out of his mouth came in a rush.

Her sea green eyes lit with an alluring smile that didn't quite reach the rest of her face. Killian watched as she examined him, eyes darting around to each part of him like she was seeing someone else for the very first time. The rising sun above them cast beams over his head and the mysterious woman squinted to shield her eyes from the bright rays. Her head swiveled in his hand to take in the scene around them, members of his crew looking on in confusion, some patting themselves on each other's backs and snickering at Killian's "catch," and Killian had the urge to pull her all the closer. Even her puzzled, calculating expression was beautiful as her blonde eyebrows narrowed in perplexity and Killian wished to lift his other hand in order to smooth the harsh lines on her skin. But he resisted.

He started to open his mouth to set her mind at ease when all of a sudden the woman's confusion turned to resilience as her eyes became determined and her small hands made fists in the lapels of his jacket. For just a moment Killian thought she might lift herself up to kiss him, and he focused on her mouth with a strange pang of desire he'd never experienced. What he wasn't expecting was a swift knee to the groin, and he doubled over to the ground as she threw him off of her.

Through a deep groan of pain, Killian wheezed, "Wait! Come back," and a few crewmen rushed to help him to his feet.

She had made it a ways down the narrow street, but still turned her head to grant him a final grin before rounding a corner. His heart soared at the sight of her smile, like it had caught wind and he could sail right back to her. He couldn't help but laugh at the feeling, air rushing from his lungs as he watched her go.

"I will find you!" He declared, his words ringing out for everyone to hear. The last thing he saw was a flash of blonde as her ponytail bounced behind her, and she was gone.

Several hours later, when the coast was clear of officers, Emma found herself back at the village's stone docks. The sun was setting over the clear blue water and Emma's mind raced with unanswered questions. Where was she? She quickly realized earlier, much to her astonishment, that this was not the year 2000, let alone anywhere near the United States of America. At first she thought she'd been sent back to some form of colonial England, for the quaint little village reminded her of something out of a history text book. But many things just didn't add up.

She struggled with knowing exactly what to feel. She felt lonely, and once again isolated like she was back home, but each time those feelings surfaced Emma couldn't get the image of her officer out of her head. _Her_ officer? Emma was rattled by these unconscious emotions of attachment.

Maybe it was because he'd just chosen the right words – a sucker punch to her vulnerable heart – but Emma couldn't shake him. Perhaps that was why she found herself back here. Emma wanted to recapture that intense moment of impact, before she once again found herself falling – to remember the sheer comfort of closeness before she remembered she was alone. With a heavy sigh she watched the sun's last light twinkle on the shimmering ocean, and shivered at the cool winds that beckoned forward the night.

Suddenly, a voice came from behind and she straightened her spine in alertness. "I could have you arrested, you know."

She knew who it was instantly, his reprimanding but playful tone causing her skin to buzz with excitement. Emma hesitated with her reply, turning her head slowly as she looked up at him from just under her long eyelashes, legs ready to pounce.

"Assaulting an officer of the King's Navy comes with some pretty dire consequences, nowadays," he continued lazily, approaching her section of the short stone wall and resting his elbows on it beside her. He kept his gaze on the horizon as she looked at him to gage his seriousness.

After a moment of silence between them, he looked at Emma and smiled as her calculating expression turned to one of confident calmness.

"Perhaps. But you won't do it," Emma stated, turning back toward the water.

He let out a short laugh before asking, "And why would you think that?"

Emma grasped at straws to try and manipulate her handsome officer. Go for the pride, she thought, that always gets them.

"Because then you'd have to admit that a little girl like me was able to injure a strapping young solider such as yourself." Her voice went down an octave in order to reinforce his need to protect his obviously threatened masculinity.

He infuriated her again by simply chuckling and she snuck a glance at him. The look on his face was anything but proud.

"I'd hardly classify you as a _little girl,_" he said firstly, and Emma's cheeks tingled with pink. "And are you kidding me? I don't think I'll quite be able to have children anymore." Emma was growing very fond of his accent, despite his annoying ability to evade her manipulations.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage somehow," Emma replied shortly, trying not to smile.

"Well, perhaps after some hard work and _lots_ of practice," he suggested, teasingly. Emma blushed again and decided she was losing this battle. Emma hated to lose.

Swinging her legs over the wall and jumping down in front of the man, Emma closed in on him instantly. "Then we should get started right away," she put on her most seductive tone and brought her fingers up to skim over the breast of his blue waist coat.

She watched his face go beet red with embarrassment and smirked, forcing him to stumble backwards with her advancement. But after just a second, he'd gathered his wits. Grabbing her hand in his and pinning her with a serious stare, he stopped her in her tracks.

"Who are you?" he demanded, eyes serious. He ran his thumb over her knuckles gently, tone desperate. "Where are you from?"

She wrenched her fingers from his grip and stepped back in discomfort, trying to shake off his growing concern.

"Emma," she said, averting her gaze as her voice became small and harsh, "and I'm not from anywhere."

She expected him to back off, for Emma was usually good at scaring men away. But he stood his ground.

"Well, _Emma_, do you have anywhere to stay tonight?" He asked.

Emma couldn't help herself. With a mocking gasp she exclaimed, "That's rather forward of you _Captain_. Wouldn't your crew disapprove?"

But he knew her game by this point.

"It's Killian, actually. Killian Jones. And I'm hardly a captain."

"Oh. Well, it's nice to meet you Killian, but I do better on my own." Emma mustered all the energy she had within her to turn away from him, battling with the strong tug of her rapid heartbeat.

He followed her retreat, back peddling as she tried to escape him so that he could continue watching her beautiful face.

"Well that's perfect, because I have a place you can have all to yourself. It'll be just for tonight, but you'll be off the streets at least."

Emma had never before met a more genuine person in all her days in the system. Someone wanted to help…_her_? A dangerous feeling of vulnerability started brewing deep within her chest, and it annoyed her.

"How do you know I'm on the streets?" She snapped, chin held high in the air.

Killian halted mid step, causing Emma to almost run into him once more. His features were somber.

"Because I know an orphan when I see one."

Emma's guarded eyes went wide and she hastily searched his face for pity. The one thing she hated most when people found out her secret was the hideously gushing sympathy that they stuffed down her throat. No one knew what it was like, being alone, and Emma despised the thought that people then felt she was no longer worthy of normal conversation.

Killian however, was not at all weighted down by this knowledge of her. His expression was open and caring, simply waiting for her to admit his correctness. Emma felt her own shoulders suddenly lifted of weight and she couldn't quite explain why. She started babbling.

"I'm almost eighteen, you know, so _technically_ I'm not an orphan anymore. I'm Emma – just Emma. And I don't need _anyone_ to take care of me."

"I know," he said earnestly, cutting her off. "But I want to."

Emma, unsure, glanced back over her shoulder just to catch the last speck of sunlight as it fell below the faraway horizon, cloaking them in complete darkness with not a street lamp in sight.

"Oh so now you're going to be a gentleman?" She asked, gesturing teasingly in an attempt to ease the serious tension. "Just a few hours ago you were manhandling me on the street over there."

He grinned at the sight of her stubbornness waning. "Love, if I were man handling you, you'd know it." Killian took her hand and brought it to his lips, but before kissing it, continued, "And I'm always a gentleman."

His soft lips brushed her knuckles, his eyes trained on hers the entire time. Emma's feet felt like cement blocks in the leather boots she wore. He released her hand slowly, but Emma stood entranced.

She faked a sigh and an exasperated tone in order to mask her complete breathlessness.

"Well, aren't you going to lead the way, Captain?" Emma's hands gesturing forward, starting again in the direction she'd tried to escape.

Killian let her get just a few paces in front before she felt his hand grab hers once more. She was beginning to safer from just his touch, his laughter and one simple sentence as her steered her in the opposite direction.

"As you wish."

R&R xoxo


	3. Captain

**A Place to Hide – Chapter Three: Captain**

**Word Count: 3, 063**

**Rating: T**

**A/N: This has been sitting in my fic file for a couple weeks because I got serious writer's block. I'm so sorry :S Hope y'all like it. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, as well as suggestions. Happy reading!**

**WWWWWWWWWWWWW**

Emma was quickly grateful for Killian and his offer, despite her earlier reluctance. Even if she didn't completely trust him and his blatant charm, she truly did need a place to sleep. The breeze that came off the coast was sharp in the dark of nighttime and her initial plan of keeping awake until morning was less than appealing. A couple years on the street and Emma had never slept rough – too much risk. She often found herself wandering until the sun rose before finding somewhere to squat while families were away.

That had been her plan until Killian found her. _Killian. _

Emma kept saying it over and over in her head, desperately wanting to feel it on her lips, but stole herself to simply watching him as she followed in the dark.

"It's just up ahead," he whispered to her, only turning his head slightly in her direction before continuing forward. They had come along a wide street full of what looked like to be mostly small shops and local businesses. Killian hurried with a swiftness that reminded Emma of home. Wait, not _home,_ just the bustle of street life she'd always been used to. But yet, with him it was full of a lustful excitement, not the dreaded anxiety she was accustomed to feeling.

"Why are you in such a hurry? And why are we _whispering_?" She tugged on the hand that had unknowingly fallen into hers, but Killian just kept moving.

"Shhh. It's just right -"All of a sudden he spun around and was on top of her again, this time pressing her close against the brick wall of the nearest shop, their breaths mingling, Emma's eyes wide in confusion and surprise.

"What - " Killian's right index finger was quickly on her lips, the feel of his flesh stopping her question short and making her forget the pain of the rough rocks behind her. He kept it there while motioning slightly to his right. Emma's searching gaze followed as she peaked over his shoulder. It was a sentry guard, from the King's army, making his way across the closest intersecting streets. A fellow solider, indeed, and Emma wondered why they were hiding. Killian's finger was still on her, his left hand gripping her tightly at the hip. He waited until the man passed out of sight before speaking, but without letting her go.

"Being out past curfew with an underage woman could have me flogged and demoted," he breathed. Emma felt his fingers squeeze her hip slightly, his eyes never left hers. Struggling to find the right words, her brain wanted to run, to save him from the price she now hung over his head, but her heart took over. Swelling so big in her chest, pushing out all anxiety, she let it decide her next words in just a matter of seconds.

"Then we better get inside, Captain," Emma whispered, smiling up at him. She was a risk, and he was taking it. She'd never felt more worthy in her life.

Killian took her hand once more and they took off again down the cobblestone street. Just a few yards down, he came to an abrupt stop, jostling Emma, before letting her hand go and coming to his knees in front of a large wooden door frame.

Emma laughed quietly, keeping watch around them. "If we're out of options, Captain, I hardly think prayer will help us."

Killian ignored her jest, digging a small pocket knife out of his coats inside pocket and started work on the door's large silver lock. "Just give me a minute," he said quietly. Emma watched as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth, working with his able hands. If Emma wasn't attracted to this beautiful man before, seeing him pick a lock with the kind of quick handed skill she looked up to definitely did the trick. With a final deft click, he pushed the door open with a long squeak and he rose as he motioned for her to enter.

Emma crossed her arms and stared up at him with an accusatory grin. "You, are a _criminal_, Killian Jones."

He scoffed at her, ushering her inside with his hands on her shoulders before closing the door behind them. "Hardly, my dear. I _work _here."

They walked into a dark, undistinguishable room, and Emma squinted in order to try and make out her surroundings.

Emma kept talking in order to fill the shadowy silence as Killian went about the room by memory. "I've learned from much experience that if you're entering a building armed with pointy metal objects, it's frowned upon in a court of law."

"Well, as a blacksmith's apprentice, I'm quite used to using 'pointy metal objects… to their _utmost _extent."

Turning on a gas lamp in the corner, Killian illuminated the large workshop, and then crossed to the window to pull the shutters closed. Emma took in the rows upon rows of swords, daggers and metal work that lined the shop's walls and work stations.

"Woah," Emma half-breathed the word, uncrossing her arms as she was drawn to edges of the room, hands itching to touch the hung steel that glinted in the firelight. "These are amazing. Did you make all these?"

Killian remained close to the shop's window, watching Emma admire the metalwork. "Unfortunately, no," he said, moving across the creaking floorboards towards her. His voice held a twinge of disappointment and Emma turned to him.

"No, I'm still learning," Killian stopped behind a smaller work bench in the farthest corner and sat. Emma walked over to stand in front of him and the wide desk. "I'm afraid I'll never be quite as good as my Master Williams. This is his shop. Most officers find other professions while on leave. We're not always needed by the King, as for the peacetime, and I quite like to get my hands dirty."

Killian's eyebrows rose suggestively with that last comment and Emma couldn't help but giggle slightly. Although her giggles seemed to come out more like short huffs of breath, and Emma mentally chastised herself. It seemed that, since she hadn't often had reason enough to laugh, that her throat was hesitant to the idea. She hated feeling so awkward, sensing the warm, telling blush on her cheeks, but Killian saved the moment.

"Mostly I just like the idea of being good at something," he continued, not looking at her. "When we're out on deployment, I'm always just Lieutenant. Second in command to my brother, Liam – the actual Captain – and I want something that's just mine. Liam doesn't get it, always pushing me to take on more responsibility with the fleet, but if I do, I'll never be free of his shadow."

Emma didn't know how to reply to this blatant show of emotion. She couldn't navigate it.

"I'm sure you're an excellent Lieutenant," was what she went with.

"Oh, I am," he countered, throwing her a cheeky grin that made his eyes crinkle. Her faded blush reignited instantly.

"I just like doing my own thing," Killian continued, "you know?"

As he stood, Killian reached to one of the highest shelves what Emma assumed to be his own corner of the shop. His question rang in her head as he rifled through things loudly, for Emma had had a lot of practice doing her own thing, and it seemed as though Killian knew exactly how she felt. She almost didn't notice the tight muscles in his back, even through the thick cotton of his uniform jacket that tried to hide them – _almost_.

"Ahah," Killian said, clasping a tightly wrapped item as he removed it from the shelf and turned back to Emma. "_This_ is one that I've made." The cloth that surrounded the short blade was dirty and worn, making Emma think that Killian spent quite some time handling the treasured fruits of his labor. He placed it on the counter and Emma walked around to get a better look as he began unwrapping it.

The blade couldn't have been longer or wider than her forearm, but it was beautiful. The hilt was adorned with a tough black leather grip, the cross of it sturdy as Killian handed it to her. It was surprisingly heavy. As Emma lifted it she saw her own dim reflection in its shiny metal, Killian's too as he looked over her shoulder with a modest smile. Maybe it was the lamplight or made it was the exquisiteness of the sword itself, but Emma couldn't help but think that she looked beautiful, with her wisps of golden hair, having fallen from its band, framing her face. Their eyes met in the blade's reflection and Emma thought suddenly that maybe it was Killian.

She was speechless, and Killian took this to mean she didn't like it. He took back the blade to show her something else.

"My favourite part is these," he pointed to the part of the blade closest to the hilt and Emma couldn't quite make out the intricate detail there, her eyes squinting. Killian went to fetch the lamp by the door and brought it close up to the sword. Emma stared in a wondrous confusion as her heart beat picked up. Several detailed vines had been smoothly carved into the hard steel, laid out at the beginning of the short blade, joining in the middle behind a small blooming flower which adorned the hilt like a jeweled crown. She was speechless again so Killian filled the silence.

"I was thinking of using it as my signature, you know, like how every blacksmith marks his work so people know it's his. Liam thinks it's too feminine for a blacksmith, and I don't know, maybe it is, but I thought it just _fit_. Maybe it's bullocks, I'm not even sure if Master Williams will…" he was rambling and had started pacing the shop. Emma stopped hearing anything.

Slowly placing the blade back on Killian's table, Emma just as slowly lifted the sleeve on her left arm. Running her fingers over the wrist tattoo she got years ago, as soon as she was old enough to fool an artist into giving her one, her heart beat like crazy. It was the exact same. Down to each lined crease and curved petal, it was the same. It felt like she had been hit with the force of an anvil, her whole body tingling with the same urges she had back in Portland. This time however, it wasn't pushing her toward any gaping green vortexes, but to the rambling man, sailor, blacksmith that was pacing the room behind her. It wasn't telling her to jump this time. This time it was telling her to stay exactly where she was.

With only the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears, Emma quickly swivelled on her feet, her awe-infused stare causing him to stop in his tracks.

There was a blush on his neck and his words were playfully pleading, though Emma still couldn't process them. "Now love, don't be gentle. You can tell me you hate it." His outstretched hands were an invitation for her criticism, but Emma's urges took them as an invitation for something else entirely.

With just three steps between them, Emma reached him in an instant, their chests roughly pressed together as Emma griped the lapels of his blue waist coat. A short grunt left Killian's throat, but before he could question her, Emma covered his mouth with her own.

Killian only hesitated for an instant, for the feel of her soft lips against his almost brought him to his knees. Securing an arm around her waist to keep them both upright and weaving his fingers into the tightly bound hair at the back her head, Killian leaned into the kiss with a deep groan.

He worried Emma's top lip between his own, her little cupid's bow becoming his favourite spot as he paid respect to each part of her petite mouth. He kissed each corner, as well as the defined pout of her slightly fuller bottom lip. Slipping beneath the rough leather of her dark jacket, his left hand splayed across the bare back of her dress and kneaded her soft skin with his fingertips. She whimpered in response and held him tighter.

Emma's chest nearly burst with an unknown, aching warmth. The only way to get closer to it was to get closer to him. _Him_. She couldn't control herself, and Emma let her tongue sneak out and graze his bottom lip before she pulled back to look at his face.

"I'm guessing you liked it," Killian asked through heaving breaths, referring to his sword.

Emma didn't quite care what he was talking about, and simply answered with a whispered, "Yeah."

Killian stared down at her with heavy lidded eyes, and all he could see was the hopeful lust that clouded Emma's sea green eyes. Their gazes were questioning, for they'd only just met. Shouldn't this be wrong? Just a few heartbeats passed between before Killian could no longer hold back. Her cheeks were flush with heat, but it was the dark swollenness of her pink lips that brought his mouth crashing back down on hers.

He caught her mid-breath, leaving her mouth vulnerable and Killian plunged inside. They both moaned at the intrusion and Emma responded by rubbing herself closer and trying to push the heavy material of his coat from his shoulders. Their kiss broke as Killian ungracefully tried to shrug out of his uniform, but Emma was impatient. Her hands came up to the hair at the back of his neck and she laced them through the ink black strands, her mouth brushing light kisses over his stubbled jaw line. Her tattooed wrist came in direct contact with his hammering pulse point and Emma shivered all over. Her fingertips tingled at the sensation and she tried to release the energy by tugging his short hair.

Their mouths connected again as Killian pushed Emma's own jacket from her narrow shoulders. It fell to the ground with ease. Their hands roamed everywhere. The warm energy within Emma could hardly be contained.

"What is this?" Killian breathed, between urgent kisses. _So he felt it too_, thought Emma.

"I – I don't know." They didn't stop to discuss.

Hands kept searching, mouths kept kissing, licking biting, but as soon has Killian's fingers threaded underneath the thin, flimsy straps of Emma dark red sundress, noise from outside stopped them. They tore their lips apart and looked toward the windows.

Sharp whistles could be heard in the distance and Killian knew immediately he had to go. Reluctantly, he let go of Emma's bare shoulders and opened the shutters to confirm. His fellow officers seemed to be flowing out of surrounding buildings and heading towards the docks. Liam came marching out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to be rallying the officers together.

"Killian! Killian?" Liam called, though Killian could just make it out through the muffled window. His brother started heading in the direction of the shop.

He couldn't stand to leave, especially after what has just transpired, but it seemed like an emergency.

Killian sighed, turning back to Emma. "I have to -"

The vision on her interrupted his thoughts. Blonde hair mused and falling out of her now quite loose pony-tail, with her creamy bare shoulders glowing with candle light, Emma had picked his coat from the floor and now offered it to him with a smile.

"I know," was all she said. He walked back over to her.

"I don't want to," Killian offered, pushing back the soft angel hairs that had fallen into her face. The feel of his fingertips on her face was heaven.

"I know," she said again with a slight laugh. She didn't want him to go either. But she could already tell, he was a man of honor, and other people needed him. She was just scared of how much it seemed she needed him too.

"Killian!" Liam's voice from outside was getting closer.

"I'll be back before sunrise, I promise."

Emma never put much faith in promises, especially those from people who were leaving, but something in Killian's eyes assured her of his truth. She nodded, backing away from him to scan the roomy loft.

"Is there somewhere I can sleep?" She asked, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, one that might not be completely surrounded by sharp, deadly weapons."

Killian laughed, shaking his head to clear it of her influence. "Yes, sorry, I forgot to mention it. My room is just up those stairs and to the right. You should get some rest."

Emma continued backing away toward the stairs, and Killian was conflicted between leaving as quickly as possible and going back for one more kiss.

He stole himself against it at the sound of his brother. "Lieutenant, lieutenant!?" Killian didn't know what to say, how to end such an amazing day.

Emma still watched him as her body twisted to begin climbing the wooden staircase.

"I'll be back," he said lamely, before turning to reach for the door.

"Hey Jones," she called, and Killian turned just in time to catch a set of silver keys she'd flung his way. He laughed thinking of their earlier break in.

"Thanks," he replied, a little speechless at how much she both challenged and enchanted him.

Disappearing up the staircase, he could barely hear her over the growing noise outside, but he caught just the whisper of her voice before leaving.

"Goodnight, _Captain_."

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his entire face and Killian stood there for a second, memorizing the feel of her lips on his, the feel of her voice in his head – his heart – before extinguishing the bright lamplight and exiting the workshop.

**WWWWWWWWW**

**R&R :)**

**(I'm not even sure what Liam wants yet, but somebody had to break up that steamy love fest. Too soon for a kiss? Let me know)**


End file.
